Random Ruminations on Single Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Wine

I had never dated a carrot top until my excursion with the Ginger Viking awhile back but somehow in the first half of 2017 I morphed into the proverbial flame for the red-headed OKC moth. There must have been a bit of an accelerate on the ignition because I flickered bright enough to spend the … More Ginger Snaps Part One: Mix in the Brown Sugar and Spices

I replaced your picture today, My Friend, A culling from the shelf, Amputating you from amongst The mementos and dusty bric-a-brac. I couldn’t take it any longer, My Friend, Your smile in my line of sight, Taunting me daily with a Whiff of salt air and thirty years of whispered echoes. … More Relinquish

If I fell In the shower and Landed on my head, Who would find me Naked, Pruned, And unconscious? Or worse? These are the thoughts you have, Living alone, When you fall In the shower and Land on your ass. Luckily, It’s padded. Advertisements

She walks in with slight bite of lip, betrayal of boldness carefully cultivated, cover blown on sight. Maybe it’s just the mead talking to me tonight, but my recent foray into the nonet sparked a renewed interest in poetry and form in my life. Thus, a trip into the shadorma. It … More Veneer

Crinkly laugh lines and a phone number; Sweet taste of maybes and what ifs Turned sour, an acid truth You live with another, Rendering you just One more passing Flirtation To Let Go. Dear Loyal Readers, I was right that a haiku might be not enough, but the result of meeting the … More Beware Plumbers Brandishing Compliments

There were two plumbers here today to lay some pipe. Long, sturdy pipe. It’s okay if you’re queuing the music. I know the tune because it’s in my head too. Baw Chicka Baw Baw. It’s extra loud given that these gents, unlike my previous encounter with Plumber Jim, are quite attractive and not douche nozzles. … More Master Plumbers and Maybe, Maybe, Maybes

Plath said hers had a Meinkampf look, A man in black With love of the rack and the screw, But Daddy, Daddy, I don’t know what to make of you. I read her words at twenty, A dagger trailing red to the core And then put you away – Tried to scar the slice … More Father of Mine

Let’s take a trip down Mating Dance Memory Lane, shall we? I invite you to fall down the rabbit hole with me to that time I was the Bad Date, capital B, capital D, to my first ever Internet Date. It culminated in an incident involving a Tony Little Gazelle but we’ll get there in … More Dial-Up Date